Memoirs from the trip to Atlantic City for Josh's 21st birthday.
It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.
(I kick myself for forgetting my camera on this trip.)
#1) "Hot air baloon"
After being awake for almost 24 hours, while nursing a hangover, loosing a small fortune, and coping with millions of slot machine noises creating a cacophony that would rival "the brown noise" sought after by Eric Cartmen, we finally sat down for a nice peaceful breakfast. It was me, Bregman, and Mescher dinning at the Bombay Lounge at the Taj. Me and Bregman weren't really that hungry, but I was hoping that the food would silence his constant cajolery for us to pop an adderall and play small stakes craps throughout the morning in an effort to win back what we lost.
A long conversation ensued about why we were acting so weird. It was like we were on some horrible drug. One of us suggested that it was the addrenaline combined with excitement, anxiety, and no sleep. A precarious combination, but still not enough to account for us feeling dead-ass tired, yet unable to sleep with all the NyQuil in the world. Mike brought up the "fact" that the casinos pump oxygen into the casino, causing you to get a high that keeps you awake and spending money. The supposed violation of my right to only imbibe drugs that I am aware of set me off, and an arguement began that brought up isssues such as the amount/tank size/purity of the O2 that would have to be used, as well as "how amazingly clean and fresh the smoker-infested casino floors" were. The issue was debated for the rest of the trip.
I mention this minute arguement about gases because it's the only possible segway, combined with it being Josh's birthday, that could have made Bregman think about what he said next. For some reason, bregman interjects with; "YOU KNOW, the only thing I really want for my birthday is a hot air balloon ride!" Me and mike starred with a strange interest.
"Why?," we asked.
"Cause I just want to soar."
"With who?," I asked.
"BY MYSELF!," he said, as if an hour in a basket by himself would make a great birthday.
After that we realized none of us were able to convey a simple thought, but we still died laughing at our attmepts. Mike's oxygen theory was starting to become more beleivable.
#2) "The fuck sign"
After eating breakfast and losing more money we set out on our way to bed at 7AM, eager to rid ourselves of this horrible day and the delerious state we had entered into at some point. On our way, we spot a casino advertisement, probably for some stupid rewards card that read, "More. . . because more is better!" After laughing at the simplicity of their cunning attempt to swindle more money out of broke people, Bregman says, "I just want to write 'FUCK' across that poster in huge letters and throw it at some 80 year old woman playing slots!" At first I was confused because I though he actually said he wanted to fuck on the sign, and then throw it at an old lady. Which of course was still funny in our delerious state, but even loonier. Later the discrepency was resolved, and a great memory was born.
#3) "Three card poker"
During a break in our seemingly endless parade around the casinos, while in search of an empty $10 dollar blackjack table among all the $25 and $50 tables, on the busiest weekend of the summer in AC. Were standing around some poker tables with Mike and Bregman while we waited for josh to cash out. We begin to watch a game of "Three Card Poker" and consider settling for this instead of blackjack. The broadcasted name of the game made the basic idea of play slightly apparent for most of the fools around. Nevertheless, at that moment two guys walk by the table. One guy decides to rationalize the game play to his newbie friend. "Yeah, three card poker. It's like poker. . .with three cards." And I thought I had no place in this town.
#4) "Responsible thought"
Our Morale was crushed after losing a combined total of about $650. We felt worn and completely out of it, so Bregman and I retreated to the room to shower and sleep off the regret. After the shower it was like we were reborn. We were full of new hope and confidence for some weird reason. I wouldn't be surprised if it was something in the water. We debated going back down to the casino for another shot at success, but I had a feeling that it was a bad idea. We tried to sleep but its hard to sleep in a strange Casino Hotel when your down $500 dollars and you know that only 4 floors below you there are people winning your money. However, the fact that I had expelled all of my "preset spending limit"($500), and had no access to more cash kept me in bed. Soon, Josh and Mike were back from the blackjack table, and Josh thought it would be a good idea to pay me his rent money with the cash he had left over from the night. With another $400 on hand I was torn. I turned to bregman for some friendly advice from a qualified compulsive gambler.
"I feel like if I just put a couple hundred down on the pass line that the odds will be in my favor, and then ill almost be back at even. I mean I'm due for a big win, I've had bad luck all night. Then again if I lose more its going to be hard to pay for books this semester. What do you think Bregman, what should I do?"
Bregman looks at me as if I had approached him with a rudimentary question such as where babies came from and says, "Seriously man, you should gamble more! It makes so much sense man. Don't give u-"
"Wow, I wasn't expecting that at all. I thought you would have said something logical like, 'forget it man, its not worth it' or 'Lomo, it's a horrible idea, I wont let you gamble away the money you need for food this month.'"
He then laughed probably because he had a moment of clarity and realized that he was being completely unreasonable, and we dismissed the idea, but our delirium got the best of us.
Since we couldn't sleep we decided to get some food and see how we felt after that. I was skeptical of his complete reassurance that more gambling was a good idea, but somewhere between breakfast and the walk back through the casino I lost another $300. I might have strangled the bastard if he hadn't lost another $100 or so himself.
More to come. . .
